


found my way

by min_j



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - College/University, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fruits Basket au, M/M, Slow Burn, seokjin as the main protagonist for once because he deserves better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/min_j/pseuds/min_j
Summary: Twelve members of one family are cursed, in that they temporarily turn into their Chinese zodiac animal upon one of two conditions:1. The cursed member is weak or stressed.2. The cursed member embraces the one they fall in love with.After an unfortunate plumbing incident, Kim Seokjin is ready to kick off his third year of university with two temporary roommates: Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi.They're nice people, really.He just never expected them to be cursed.





	found my way

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first full-length fic on AO3.
> 
> This is a Fruits Basket AU. If you aren't familiar with the series, it's a story about a student who meets a family that is possessed by the animals of the Chinese Zodiac. This story is based off of the plot and will diverge from the original in some ways.
> 
> This is also a BTS fic with EXO characters heavily incorporated into the storyline. Please keep in mind that I love every single member of each group very, very, very much -- if a depiction of any member turns out to be negative, I sincerely hope that you remember my love for the members and do not take the portrayal as a reflection of any ill sentiment towards any specific people.
> 
> Thank you very much!

“Sorry, what? Temporary housing?” Seokjin’s vision grows blurry as he stares at the wall opposite his bed.

The woman on the phone is apologetic. “We’re sorry,” she says. “There’s been a plumbing issue with the dorm that you originally applied for, and there are no more rooms in the entire building. It’s all been filled to maximum capacity. We won’t charge you,” she adds on hastily, “and we’ve gathered a number of housing options for you to select from.”

“How long will it take to fix this?”

“Up to about two weeks,” the woman says quickly. “We’ll try to have it patched up before the fall semester starts.”

That’s…not too bad. Seokjin takes a deep breath.

It’s okay. It’s fine. This is going to be okay.

He’d never anticipated a plumbing issue to kick off his third year of university, but it’s fine. It’s fine.

 “Thank you for your understanding,” the woman says. “We’ll be emailing you a list of all the possible housing options for your next two weeks.”

 

***

 

“Wow, you really hit the jackpot,” Junmyeon says. His eyes widen as he scans the list on Seokjin’s phone. “I thought they would give you one of those cramped dorms that they hand out to freshmen, but you got a lot of apartment-style options, huh?”

“I think I’ll go for fourth one,” Seokjin says, sighing. He takes his phone back and pushes his coffee back to the center of the table – it’s already gone cold by now. “It’s got more space than my original dorm, anyway.”

“There are already two people in there. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“I don’t mind an extra roommate or two. Besides, didn’t you live with three other people in your third year?”

Junmyeon, as a senior this year, has resorted to working at a café for wages. Seokjin shudders. If there’s one thing he’s not looking forward to by the time he graduates, it’s the weight of student loans that threaten to loom over his head.

He can almost hear the apologies for the lack of funds from his grandfather flooding in already.

“That’s true,” Junmyeon says. His expression is sympathetic. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. I know it’s a pain to move all your stuff in and out of your grandfather’s house. Do you want another coffee while we’re still here?”

“It’s okay.” Seokjin scans the periphery of the café – right on cue, the front bell rings, and a man walks in with his wallet in hand. “You should get back to work now. I have to go home and pack.”

 

***

 

There’s no use moping about it now. Two hours in the car later that week, his uncle drops him off at the new complex with a small pat on the back and three sets of suitcases in hand. Seokjin lugs them up to the elevator, stepping in to the cramped space and shooting the other man in the lift an apologetic glance.

“Oh, shoot,” he says when the stranger jumps at a small _thunk_. “I’m so sorry, did I get your foot?”

The man smiles and waves it off. “It’s fine. Just surprised me, is all. Are you moving in today?”

“I am. And you’re living here, correct?”

“Yes. What floor?” The stranger’s finger hovers above the elevator buttons expectantly, waiting for Seokjin’s call.

“Fourth,” he says. Then he sees the red ring highlighting the fourth button: it’s already been pressed.

“So you’re my neighbor! It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Kim Seokjin. And you’re…”

“Namjoon! Kim Namjoon.” Namjoon gestures to the entrance when the doors open, allowing Seokjin to shuffle through first. “After you.”

“What year are you?” Seokjin’s slightly relieved. Putting a name to any face at all has reduced the stress of the whole experience, even if by just a smidgeon. The apartment is farther away from campus than he’d expected.

“I’m in my third year,” Namjoon replies smoothly, “but I’m probably younger than you. Accelerated program,” he admits when Seokjin gives him a questioning look. “Oh – ” They come to a halt through the hallway in front of the same door and pause.

“Are you in room 407 too?” Seokjin laughs. “This is such a pleasant surprise. I guess you’ll be my roommate for the next couple of weeks. I’m sorry for having to squeeze in with you and your friend at such short notice – hopefully I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Namjoon unlocks the door and chuckles. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. The apartment is pretty open, my friend and I kind of needed someone to fill up the next empty room anyway. Yoongi hyung?” he calls. “Hyung, the new roommate is here.”

The apartment is really spacious, almost empty. The common space connecting all individual rooms together is laid bare with minimal amounts of furniture and one single TV set next to the kitchen; dishes have stacked up a mountain’s worth in the sink – unwashed, likely. Seokjin wrinkles his nose.

He’s halfway through lamenting the lack of food in the refrigerator when one of the doors in the apartment creak open.

“Hello,” says Seokjin, standing up straight. This must be the second roommate.

Compared to Namjoon, he looks extremely disheveled. The front of his hair is sticking up straight and he’s wearing shorts paired with a roughly wrinkled tank top. Seokjin distantly wonders if this man’s room looks anything like him.

“Gah,” he responds, rubbing his eyes. Did he just wake up from a nap?

“I’m Kim Seokjin, I’ll be staying at your place for the next two weeks.”

“Ah. Min Yoongi…” Yoongi blinks wearily. “It’s nice to meet you. ’M sorry, it’s kind of early.”

It’s one in the afternoon.

“Well,” Yoongi says, yawning, “make yourself at home. Let me know if you need any help unpacking.

And with that, he retreats back into his room in peace, leaving a bemused Seokjin in his wake.

 

***

 

Living at Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s place is both liberating and somewhat constricting at the same time. There’s so much open space that Seokjin is acutely puzzled as to why no one else has already taken the apartment before him.

But to be blunt, it’s also a mess: the dishes constantly need cleaning and Seokjin wonders if it’s possible for the pile to get any higher; the dining table is dusty – from a lack of use, probably, leading Seokjin to consider the implications of neither of his roommates ever eating together at all – the frying pans are laid thick with grime, and dust covers every corner of the walls. It’s not quite disgusting or unpleasant, but it’s out of order in a number of ways: Seokjin’s fingers twitch to clean it up as soon as possible.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi says one evening. Seokjin has rarely seen him in the past few days – this is a first, seeing him dressed in anything but loose clothes to wear around the house. He looks to be more awake this time, after having returned from meeting a friend out in town.

The apartment is slightly more put-together now. Seokjin has cleared up a majority of the dishes and stacked them in their respective cabinets; now, he’s in the middle of frying his food and scraping the pan with his spatula.

“I’m almost done making dinner,” Seokjin says, smiling. “Have you already eaten?”

Yoongi blinks and shakes his head.

“Wait, I’m sorry! I should have asked earlier if you or Namjoon have any allergies.”

Yoongi shakes his head again. “It’s fine.”

“Okay! Well, I hope you liked kimchi fried rice. I went out to get some eggs, too, so I’ll add onto your plates unless you’d like yours without any egg on it.” He pauses. “You know Namjoon pretty well, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, and slowly leans himself against the counter. “We’re cousins.”

“Really?” Seokjin turns the stove off. “I didn’t know that.”

“We grew up together.”

“Do you have any more relatives?”

“…Some,” Yoongi says quietly. “I haven’t talked to them in a while.”

“I see.” Seokjin takes the hint to drop it. “Well, here you go.” He hands a plate to Yoongi and beams. “I just texted Namjoon, he should be here any minute now. Go on, sit down and eat up.”

Yoongi saunters over to the dining table.

“I haven’t sat down to eat with anyone at home in a while,” he notes. Impressed, he takes a bite and grunts. “That’s really good. Thank you, hyung.”

Namjoon emerges from his room just in time.

“I’m positively drooling,” he groans. “That smells amazing. What’s for dinner?”

Seokjin smiles.

 

***

 

Seokjin learns that Namjoon and Yoongi are respectively in their third and second years of university – though Namjoon is nineteen due to undergoing an accelerated program in high school, whereas Yoongi is twenty. Just one year younger than Seokjin.

While Seokjin has become more and more acquainted with each of their quirks and habits – he marvels at the progress and silently applauds his own choice to select this apartment out of any other – he is still restricted in countless fields of knowledge and interactions regarding his roommates. Their pasts, their family backgrounds, their history surrounding their health. They are only acquaintances, after all.

Which is why he has no idea what to do when Yoongi emerges from the front door one day, clutching his chest and groaning quietly as Seokjin stops scribbling notes from his textbook.

“Yoongi?” Seokjin lifts his pen from the paper. His eyebrows knit together in concern.

“I,” Yoongi rasps. Sweat dots his forehead and slides down his temple. His face is pale, eyes glassy and struggling to focus on Seokjin, who rises from his seat at once.

Yoongi collapses on the floor with a low thud.

“Yoongi!” Seokjin shouts. He bolts from his spot and kneels by Yoongi’s side, turning him over onto his back to check his expression. He’s not unconscious, that much is obvious – but it’s not unlikely that he won’t black out soon, either. His face is contorted, his brow furrowed and hand clutching his stomach as he groans in pain.

“Yoongi! What’s wrong?”

Yoongi groans.

“Is it your chest? Is that where it hurts? Your heart? Yoongi! Stay with me!”

Yoongi’s head jerks in an odd manner – Seokjin takes it as a nod and clenches his fist.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” he says, voice trembling. He’s halted as he turns to grab his phone by a tug to the hem of his shirt. Yoongi’s eyelids flutter, drifting in and out of focus as he struggles to lock his gaze with Seokjin’s line of sight.

“No,” Yoongi gasps. “Don’t.”

“Wh – “

“Don’t – don’t call an – ambulance.”

The grip on Seokjin’s shirt tightens even more, and he feels Yoongi’s panic through the tremors in the fabric before hearing it in his voice. The fleeting bit of hesitation must be obvious, because Yoongi widens his eyes now, and Seokjin can only just make out the way that Yoongi’s eyes water with pain.

“Please,” Yoongi begs. “You can’t. Call…call Namjoon, not the hospital – “

“Namjoon’s not a doctor!” Seokjin says in spite of the protests.

“Please. You…you can’t –”

“Yoongi,” Seokjin begins warningly, but he’s caught mid-sentence by the familiar sound of a key twisting in the lock of the front door.

A multitude of events burst into sequence all at once.

Just as Namjoon pushes the door open, there’s a sudden _poof_ , not unlike the exaggerated sound effects from cartoons Seokjin remembers watching from a young age. The noise is accompanied by a burst of what appears to be a cloud of either steam or smoke, Seokjin can’t tell. The white veil dissipates altogether to reveal a lump of clothing resting relatively flat against the hardwood flooring.

With the exception of a pale, fluffy, small lamb laying where Yoongi used to be, resting atop the clutter of fabric and staring pointedly at Seokjin.

A lamb.

A baby sheep.

Namjoon’s low “Oh, shit,” is barely audible above the ringing in Seokjin’s ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on twitter at @min_aus!
> 
> I appreciate any feedback in the comments below. Thank you for your support, and have a good day!


End file.
